


Burn After Reading

by HisAngelThursday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel keeps a journal, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Homeless Castiel, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Loving Dean, M/M, Masturbation, Pining Castiel, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 22:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10863834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisAngelThursday/pseuds/HisAngelThursday
Summary: Cas started keeping a journal when he was human. Well, he’d called it a journal, but it was really just the cheap sort of ruled notebook you find in pharmacies. It was the only thing he could afford at the time, an Enochian sigil scrawled on the front in ballpoint pen.





	Burn After Reading

Cas started keeping a journal when he was human. Well, he’d called it a journal, but it was really just the cheap sort of ruled notebook you find in pharmacies. It was the only thing he could afford at the time, an Enochian sigil scrawled on the front in ballpoint pen.

 _Dean told me to leave yesterday,_ the first entry read, in neat, slightly sloping print letters. There was no date. _The first thing I felt was hurt, then numb, then some painful conjecture of the two. It’s so hard to describe. I feel as though my innards have been hollowed out, as though my heart is perpetually cold. I know these things are physically impossible, yet it is the only way to describe how I feel (metaphor?)._

_I feel the oddest desire to document my feelings, though I don’t know why, which is why I purchased this journal with the last of my resources._

_I know I need to find a job – Dean offered me some money, but I did not take it – but I don’t want to. What I’d like to do is lie down on the side of the road and allow myself to slowly die of dehydration, but I understand this is unreasonable. I will seek employment._

The next entry was in a different colored pen, evidently from sometime later.

_I sleep in the supply closet of a gas station. I am grateful for the shelter, and the woman who offered me employment is kind to me, but I hate returning to consciousness and remembering where I am. I dream of Dean sometimes, but I wish I didn’t. Thinking about him makes me feel empty inside._

_I get angry with him sometimes, but more than that, I am angry with myself. I wish I could hate him, I wish I could forget about him. I wish he meant nothing to me at all, but I miss him. Sometimes I have dreams about him touching me, and they make me so confused. I wish I could put a label to all the feelings I’m having. They are most bothersome._

…

 

_I believe my employer thinks I’m homosexual. She keeps introducing me to single, homosexual men with whom she is acquainted, stating she believes we’ll ‘kick it off’ or something to that degree. I might be homosexual, though I’m not particularly sure. I know Jimmy Novak was attracted to women, and I enjoyed sex with April, before I realized she was a reaper intent on manipulating and torturing me for information._

_But sometimes I stimulate myself while thinking of Dean, and though I’m ashamed of it, I can’t stop. I like to imagine him touching me, kissing me, stimulating me with his hands and mouth. I’ve never felt this way before._

_I believe I might be homosexual._

 

…

 

_Dean came to visit me yesterday. I now feel more confused than ever. He was kind to me, though I believe it was predominantly out of guilt for telling me to leave. He invited me to join him on a hunt, but I was too afraid and embarrassed of what the outcome might have been: I was not a skilled hunter as an angel. As a human, I would only have gotten in his way._

_On a sidenote, I thought my employer asked me out on a date. It was not a date. It was babysitting. I don’t believe heterosexual women ask men whom they believe to be homosexual out on dates, but for whatever reason, this did not occur to me at the time._

_I didn’t tell Dean it was not a date. I feel better allowing him to believe I’m desired by others, though I don’t know why. I suppose I had hoped that would prompt him to want me as well, though I see now that was futile._

_When he found out I was homeless, he seemed to feel guilty. He took me to a hotel, and let me sleep on the bed while he slept on the floor – for whatever reason, the hotel manager gave us a room with only one bed, and Dean looked intensely embarrassed when I offered to share it._

_I know now that he’s sorry for telling me to go, and I know I can’t help myself but to forgive him. But he still doesn’t want me, not enough to invite me to come home, and I’ve never so badly wanted to be wanted._

_I know now that I can’t live out a mortal lifespan imitating the existence of a normal human. It all seems so futile, without Dean._

The ink changed again, to something darker, smoother, more expensive.

_I haven’t had time to write in a while, as my life has become increasingly busy, and will likely continue to do so. I will keep this brief: I am an angel again, and I intend to stay that way. But my time as a human has changed me in ways that I don’t believe will ever be undone. I still feel emotions, still feel sexual desire, more strongly than I ever did before. Perhaps being human has awakened them in me, or perhaps it’s just a side effect of not being at full power. Perhaps, in the process of being human, I somehow acquired a soul. I do not know._

_More than anything, I’m certain of one thing: I love you, Dean. I am in love with you, and I don’t believe I’ll ever be in love with anyone else. I’m not certain that you will ever love me back, or even care for me the same way I care for you. It doesn’t matter. Because whether or not it’s a welcomed gift, whether or not it’s reciprocated, I will gladly give every part of myself, every aspect of my being, to you._

Dean sat on their bed, the thin, marbled green notebook in his hands. There were other entries afterwards, ones he was sure were poignant in their own right, but he kept his eyes trained on this one, reading it over and over again.

It’s no secret now that Cas loves him, of course. They’ve been together for over two years now, and Cas says it enough for the both of them, says it when Dean’s still afraid to. But whenever he thinks he’s finally grasped how Cas feels towards him, come to terms with this angel who, for whatever reason, seems so enamored with him, he comes across something like this. And he finds himself blown away all over again.

Dean’s thoughts were interrupted when the door swung open, and Dean barely registered as Cas walked in, a cup of coffee in each hand. “Milk and sugar, as requested. I tried to take your advice and ‘go easy on the sugar’ this time, as I know not everyone enjoys the copious amounts I -” he started to say. Then, he noticed the notebook, and flushed scarlet from his cheeks all the way up to the tips of his ears. “Oh,” he said, quietly. “You weren’t supposed to read that.”

Dean knew he should probably apologize for the invasion of Cas’s privacy, for letting his curiosity get the better of him. And he intended to. Later. For now, other things seemed more important.

Dean closed the notebook and set it down beside him on the bed, wordlessly reaching out to gently guide Cas towards him and onto his lap. He took one steaming coffee mug out of his hands, setting it carefully on the bedside table, and then the other.

All the while, Castiel watched, passive and concerned, a lingering flush still on his cheeks. His trachea contracted, adam’s apple bobbing beneath soft stubble. “How much did you - that is, how far were you -” Dean cut him off with a kiss to the lips, cupping his face gently. Cas couldn’t help but lean into at as delicate warmth consumed both of them.

Dean pulled away, smiling softly as he looked into heavy-lidded blue eyes. “I love you, too.”


End file.
